<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>wanna let you know (it's all okay) by coconutcluster</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25621576">wanna let you know (it's all okay)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/coconutcluster/pseuds/coconutcluster'>coconutcluster</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sanders Sides (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, and the comfort is hugs, so. just some feel-good hurt/comfort here, the whole prompt for this story was "hugs", yknow those days where u feel kinda low? and drained? thats the hurt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 09:02:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,346</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25621576</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/coconutcluster/pseuds/coconutcluster</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Virgil got used to having bad days a long time ago. It never made them any more pleasant. </p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Anxiety | Virgil Sanders &amp; Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>108</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>wanna let you know (it's all okay)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Virgil got used to having bad days a long time ago. It never made them any more pleasant. </p><p>Of course, back then, bad days meant <em>bad </em>- he was darker then, hidden in the shadowy corner of Thomas’ mind, and in the midst of panic, he could feel that Thomas wasn’t just overwhelmed or stressed, he was <em>scared</em>. Scared of what was happening in his mind; scared that he didn’t understand it; scared of what Virgil meant. Scared of Virgil. Bad days back then meant total isolation, jitters that lasted for hours, tears he couldn’t stanch, aches in his chest, panic and pain and fear all bundled up into one package like the world’s worst gift basket. </p><p>Nowadays, the only shadowy corners were the cobweb-covered ones in his room (which he very intentionally avoided when his mood started dipping). Anxiety wasn’t simple, but after years of working with it, Thomas had started to understand Virgil in a way that made life a little easier for the both of them - but bad days came still, and though Thomas knew how to make it through them without the whole panic-and-pain-and-fear shebang, Virgil had yet to figure out how to avoid feeling like absolute shit. </p><p>Granted, it was a far cry from locking himself in a room and shaking for hours, but staring out a window and feeling empty and exhausted down to his bones wasn’t exactly what he called a good time. (Not unironically, anyway.) There was a weird restlessness to this kind of <em>bad</em>; he wanted to move, wanted to occupy his hands and his mind and distract them from the hollow that was steadily eating its way through his insides, but that urge was fighting a greater beast, one that pulled his body down, down, down to stagnancy, and <em>Jesus</em>, he was tired of it. He didn’t know whether to scream or lay down and try his hardest to decompose, and every minute he spent debating felt like he was falling deeper into a void. </p><p>“Someone’s mopey,” a voice interrupted his internal conflict. It was a little too sudden, a little too loud, a little too grand for his void-heavy brain; if Roman noticed him flinch, though, he didn’t say anything, just dropped down to sit beside Virgil and tilt his head at the window, searching the view. “What’s making you brood, Chernabysmal?”</p><p>Virgil spared him a second’s glance, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the nickname (it was a stretch, even by Roman’s standards, but he didn’t have enough energy to protest). “I’m always brooding.”</p><p>“Yes, but usually there’s some sort of teenage-angst emo music involved. You’re not wearing your earbuds, so I’d consider this unusual enough to warrant inquiry.”</p><p>“Oh, lots of big words there,” Virgil managed half a smile, lackluster as it was. “Careful, or you’ll sound like Logan.”</p><p>Though it made Roman pause, a split-second flash of horror in his eyes at the comparison, he didn’t snap back like Virgil expected him to. He just shook his head a little - it occurred to Virgil that maybe he cleared his head like that, like a weird Etch-a-Sketch in his brain - and focused on Virgil with a little frown. “Truly, though, you seem…” he squinted contemplatively, “gloomy. Moreso than usual, I mean. Is everything alright?”</p><p>And there was something about the way he asked - quieter than when he first sat down, almost gentle - and the way he frowned just a little, eyebrows raised as he waited for Virgil to answer, such an unobtrusive concern that Virgil felt a stupid wave of pressure behind his eyes, stinging and threatening to spill over. He turned back to the window and offered Roman a noncommittal shrug that hopefully distracted from how much he was blinking. “It’s just one of those days.”</p><p>“What days?”</p><p>“Just…” Virgil scanned the window like it would give him the words he was looking for, before just offering another shrug. “Low, I guess. Days where the world just sucks and life sucks and I suck.”    </p><p>“Ah. Well, I don’t think you suck,” Roman tried helpfully. It made Virgil laugh a little, at the very least.</p><p>“Thanks.” They fell silent for a moment, a heavy little pause between them; Virgil shook his head to himself, fighting for the energy to explain it all better, to make Roman’s concern worthwhile, but his thoughts felt like wading through tar and at last all he could do was sigh and shrug yet again. “This just happens sometimes,” he said, resignation heavy in his voice. “I’m used to it. It’s just tiring, I guess.”</p><p>Roman nodded along, and when Virgil finished, he turned to the anxious Side with a raised eyebrow. “Do you want a hug?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“A hug,” Roman repeated, his mouth quirking into a smile when Virgil just blinked at him. “That’s the thing where you put your arms around someone-”</p><p>“I <em>know</em> what a hug is, dipshit. I meant why’d you offer one?”</p><p>It was Roman’s turn to blink at him. He looked back out the window, biting the inside of his cheek for a moment, and offered a small shrug. “It’s easy to feel alone when you’re upset,” he said carefully, haltingly, “and feeling alone is a very… consuming ailment. But it can be difficult to express it in its entirety, so sometimes it’s simpler to just know someone’s there with you - a hug is grounding, and it reminds you that you’re not alone.” He went quiet for a second, his gaze falling to the floor. “It makes it easier to see that you’re going to be okay.”</p><p>There was a beat of silence before he straightened up and cleared his throat. “I think. I don’t- I’m not a psychology buff like Logan, so that’s all a humble guess on my part.”</p><p>Virgil stared at him, torn between laughing and being more than a little concerned - but his brain was already muddled with a weird cocktail of emotions and there was absolutely not enough room or energy left to dive into <em>that</em> conversation, so after a minute of debating, he just sighed. “Sure.”</p><p>“Hm?”</p><p>“Sure, I want a hug.”</p><p>Roman immediately brightened, either relieved that Virgil didn’t pry or happy the offer was accepted (maybe a mix of the two), and wrapped an arm around Virgil’s shoulders without a moment of hesitation.</p><p>Virgil’s first instinct was to tense up. It was sudden, even though he knew what was coming, and for a split second, he had the urge to pull away and curl into himself; the urge fizzled, though, after he forced a deep breath. He reminded his brain that, no, he was not in danger, and he was positive he could pull away at any point and Roman would let him. Another deep breath, and his muscles relaxed, and it… was actually nice.</p><p>The weight across his shoulders was a grounding comfort, and when he leaned in, he found Roman was warm in a ridiculously ideal way, like a sitting in a spot of sunshine. The gild on his uniform wasn’t the most comfortable, but when he wrapped his other arm around Virgil and held on just a little tighter, like he was testing the waters, trying to be light - he had a weird way of learning, a sort of trial and error, loud one minute and soft the next, like he was always trying to grow; it was something Virgil could appreciate - Virgil ignored the scratch of gold embellishments and let his head rest on Roman’s shoulder.</p><p>“Is this okay?” Roman asked quietly, like he was afraid the moment would shatter if he spoke too loud.</p><p>Virgil took another deep breath and let his eyes close, just for a minute. He was tired, and the hollow in his chest was an all too familiar plight… but Roman was right. It was a little easier to think he’d be okay in a while with someone there with him. “It’s great. Thanks, Princey.”</p><p>The bad days were still bad, but he wasn’t alone anymore. So he held on tight and let himself rest.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>